A Capacity for the Sublime
by sunnywinterclouds
Summary: Her first day of kindergarten. Her seventh birthday. Middle school. Freshman year. Life changes. They don't.


_My first memory._

_I'm four years old. I'm playing in the sand box, trying to construct this little castle out of sand that's not really going very well because it's all dry and grainy. This kid comes up to me and knocks over my pathetic little masterpiece, and you tell him to leave me alone and inform him that if he doesn't go away you're going to tell on him to his mom. Then you help me rebuild my sand castle._

_It's kind of cliché, really, meeting as toddlers in a sandbox, but that's still how it happened, right?_

_You tell me your name is Percy, and even my tiny little four-year-old brain can comprehend how beautiful your eyes are._

_._

_The first day of kindergarten._

_We're pretty good friends now. You yell at the other kids that tease me for trying to explain geometrical shapes when we play with blocks. You get in trouble a lot. The teacher calls you a 'rough-houser.' I don't know what it means. You stand up for me all the time. I don't need you to, but I appreciate the gesture anyway._

_I like the way you look when you're trying to be all fierce and determined._

_We hang out at your place every day after school. I don't have a mom, and you don't have a dad, and Sally makes fantastic cookies._

_._

_My seventh birthday party._

_All the kids from class come, but you're the only one that brings me the kind of present I'd like. I get dolls and dresses and hair bands from everyone else. You get me a sketch book._

_It was so long ago, but I still remember the way you held it out and said "so you can draw building stuff."_

_I'd like to say your vocabulary regarding architecture has changed since then, but it really hasn't._

_._

_The next year._

_You get a new stepdad. Your mom's cookies turn blue. They still taste the same. I don't like your stepdad – we call him Smelly Gabe, which makes us laugh. You call me your best friend. I make you a friendship bracelet. You make me one. I'm wearing it right now._

_You're still the nicest guy I know. Sometimes you hold my hand on the way home from school. It's only when we cross the street, because our parents taught us to do it, but it makes these weird tingles go up my arm. You're not walking on carpet, so it's not static electricity, but it's probably something like it._

_We build a tree house in my yard. You want a no girls allowed rule, and I want a no boys one, until we realize that we wouldn't be able to play up there together if either of those laws was put into place._

_The sign on the entrance ends up saying; no nonPercy and nonAnnabeths allowed._

_The tree's kind of rotted, and the wood for our little fort has gone soft, but the sign is still there._

_._

_Middle school._

_Things get different. I'm at the top of the class. Teachers love me. Students don't really care one way or another. You get in a lot more fights. Sometimes you have bruises that I don't think are from the other kids. You don't like to talk about your stepdad._

_You misbehave a lot. The teachers decide you have ADHD, and, later, dyslexia. We don't get to hang out as much. You stay behind for detention most days._

_People think you're a bad boy. A rebel. I know it's not true. You give me flowers for no reason and tell me you think my yearbook photo is pretty. We both blush._

_There's this mean kid named Nancy Bobofit. I shove her into a fountain for you. You scold me and laugh at the same time._

_We still have almost nightly sleepovers. We still stay up late with flashlights, you reading comic books and me reading what you call 'encyclopedias on the history of boring.' We still sit together at lunch. We still get into fun arguments about whether or not we're going to skip English class to get gross, overpriced coffee from Starbucks just because our parents say we're too young._

_We never once stop being best friends. _

_._

_Freshman year._

_You make me start to feel weird. Your eyes get prettier. At first I think I'm sick, but then the feeling doesn't go away and I realize it's just something about you that makes my stomach feel all… lurchy. In a good way._

_You contradict all of my hypotheses. I don't mind at all._

_We're not allowed to have sleepovers anymore. Something about teenage hormones and trouble-maker boys. That makes us laugh. I miss sharing a bed with you. I dream about it. I can't look at you for days._

_Your mom finds out that Smelly Gabe hits you sometimes. They're divorced faster than we can blink, and suddenly you're so much happier. You try out for the swim team. You don't make it. You shrug and say "there's always next year."_

_Sometimes I want to kiss you._

_._

_Sophomore year._

_We have our first school dance. It's Sadie Hawkins. I hate it. I stare at you in the hall for half an hour every day, just trying to work up the courage to ask you._

_You end up going with Rachel Elizabeth Dare, that girl you have art class with. I draw pictures of her and then stab them with my pencil lead._

_You get taller. I'm shorter than you for the first time. You make it onto the swim team. Other kids talk to you. Drew invites you to sit at the popular table with her._

_You say "no, thanks, I'm good," and you keep sitting next to me. We pass notes in Chemistry. I make lame jokes in my head about how we have chemistry together, and wish I had the nerve to write them down._

_I hear some girls talking about how hot you are. Calypso has a crush on you. I get into my first school fight._

_You're proud of me for finally getting in trouble, but then you ask me why I beat her up. I don't want to say it._

_I don't want to admit that I might be falling in love with you._

_._

_Junior year._

_You're the most popular guy in school. Girls flirt with you _everywhere_. You give them bemused looks, and I laugh at you. You're really stupid. You're really cute. I fall asleep thinking about you every night. You smile a lot. Girls swoon whenever you laugh. I try not to be one of them._

_The only class you're getting an A in is English. And that's because the teacher is your stepdad. Paul is great. We both like him a lot. I was your date to their wedding. You looked great in a tux._

_I'm already worried about college. I want to go to a good one, but I know you won't be able to get into Harvard or Yale or Stanford. I'd rather die than be without you._

_I've been doodling randomly in history class for half an hour before I realize I've drawn the shape of your eyes and our initials inside of a heart. I quickly erase everything, but it sticks with me._

_Annabeth Jackson sounds good._

_I'm a teenager, and I don't pretend to know anything about relationships, but I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you._

_._

_Present day._

_AKA, senior year._

_It's almost half over now. We're almost out of time. I'll go off to college, and you might not follow. I still want to be as close to you as possible._

_It's now or never. It's do or die. It's nut up or shut up._

_I leave a note in your locker. I leave _this_ note in your locker._

_I try to make it a simple _I love you_, with my name signed so that you can't confuse anything, but it's not enough. I write out a little tiny monologue, and it's not enough. I go off on this entire huge freaking rampant, and goddammit, Percy, it's still not enough._

_Percy, nothing I do for you is enough. Not compared to what you've done for me._

_I'm not sure if I'm going to go through with this. Sure, I'll seal it up in an envelope and approach your locker and let it hover over the little crack I could squeeze it into, but I'm not sure if I'll do it._

_If you're reading this, I'm so much stronger than I thought I was._

_Remember when you told me math should be simple? One plus one equals two? Two times two equals four? Leave the alphabet out of it. Forget about equations. Just look at the problem and _solve _it._

_Percy, I think this is just an incredibly simple math problem that I've been looking at like some sort of freaking Einstein theory. Anything is complicated if you make it that way. I think the solution is just really easy. I think the answer is us, just us, nothing more and nothing less._

_I love you._

_And you can disregard this or whatever, and hey, your locker is so cluttered you might never even find this, but I just need you to know._

_I'm terrible at keeping secrets, remember?_

_You know everything about me. You need to know how much I care about you, too._

_You also know that my favorite romantic movie moment was that scene from _Dirty Dancing_ where the guy swept the girl up into his arms and spun her around and everything, so why don't you go and act that out for me now. Would be great. Thanks._

_Ending this letter on an awkward, slightly strained note, because that's kind of the way we roll,_

_Annabeth._

_P.S. I love you. Not the movie, just a p.s. announcing that I love you. It feels really good to write. I wonder how it would feel to say._

… … …

Most of the students that attend Goode High are pretty used to Percy and Annabeth's ridiculous antics by now – there's even a class Facebook page entitled 'Percabeth Shenanigans,' which the two of them don't know about, thank goodness – but nothing can really prepare them for Percy running down the hallway and lifting his best friend up into the air and kissing her like there's no tomorrow.

**soo it's my birthday – I'm 15 today! you know what I reeeallly want? hint hint  
**


End file.
